


A Threat

by Squeeb100



Category: Soul Eater
Genre: Elizabeth Thompson (mentioned), Justin Law (mentioned), Nakatsukasa Masamune (mentioned), Ragnarok (mentioned kinda?), Yumi Azusa (mentioned), don't take offense please because this is not supposed to be accurate or even my opinion, read the notes, tread lightly this is very old
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-19
Updated: 2016-01-19
Packaged: 2018-05-14 21:45:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5760010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Squeeb100/pseuds/Squeeb100
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Asura didn't remember being hired as the facilities inspector for the Nevada Mental Health Institution, but he was there, with the doctors, therapists and patients, all with varying levels of crazy. It was raining in Nevada. "You're a threat to society, like all the rest...No one knows a thing, until their turn comes." Part AU, part conspiracy. A "fun" year-old oneshot from my FFN.net account. FUN TIMES.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Threat

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger warning? Maybe? Scroll to the bottom? Go down there for an archive warning I didn't tag if you must**
> 
> Scroll to the bottom also for author's note, extra whatever, and some other stuff.
> 
> FORMATTING IS A BITCH SO

Thunder sounded as the rusty old car pulled up in front of the Nevada Mental Health Institution, a building made of gray stone that, in spite of all of the rain that had collected on it, remained dull and monotone. The roof was blue slate, and the rain that ran down it in rivulets and splashed into the gutter made a deafening sound. From the dried creepers winding their way around the iron bars on the windows to the moss and lichen that had collected on every outer surface of the hospital, there was absolutely nothing remotely attractive about the place. There was a large courtyard in front of the building, but it was dry and full of crisp, long-dead plants.

Behind the main building was a scattered series of smaller buildings, categorized by what kind of patients were being held in them or what alternative purpose they served. It did, in it's own remarkably twisted way, resemble a city. Asura supposed that that was how it had received its morbid nickname.

With that unsettling thought, the dark-haired man slithered nervously from his position in the driver's seat of the car, clipboard clutched to his side. He shivered, not from cold but due to his unlikely circumstances. Not only had he, of all people, been chosen to inspect this place (it was almost like his employers were playing some kind of sick joke on him because of his own deteriorating mental state), but it was raining. In Nevada. On today, of all days, the driest state in North America was receiving an ominous thunderstorm. Asura shivered again. He couldn't even remember being hired for this job, and yet he was here. Wrapping his arms around himself, the chronically nervous man stepped forward.

Upon passing through the wrought-iron gates (following a great deal of indecision and volunteeral conflict over whether he should turn around and go home or if he was just paranoid and it was a normal mental hospital), Asura was greeted by a middle-aged woman. She was a young, attractive African American in a smart white labcoat. In spite of himself, Asura gave the woman's body a visual once-over. She wasn't bad – if she hadn't been a psychologist working in this place of horrors, Asura would have tried to summon the courage to ask her out.

“Hello, sir,” the woman had a husky voice, which she used to her advantage. Asura, startled, immediately snapped his gaze up to meet hers. “My eyes are up here.”

“I-Indeed they are. And what lovely blue eyes they are too, miss...”

“Nygus. Head nurse, Mira Nygus. Spare me the flattery, please. I'm here to show you in, introduce you to the boss, and show you back out when the tour is over. Follow me, please.” Nygus droned on with this line, as if she had spoken it countless times. “Please note that the patients here are only the most unstable, so we ask you to keep at least an arm's length from all cells at any given time, lest anything were to...happen.”

“Um...alright...” Asura felt his voice waver as he lost confidence by the second.

“Alright then. Please follow me.”

And he did. Asura nervously followed Nygus through the front entrance and into the main building. They walked through a sparsely furnished white lobby, pausing so that Asura could check in with the dark-haired woman at the front desk. Unlike Nygus, she was wearing a smart gray business suit and glasses which flashed as she handed Asura some liability waivers.

Then they walked through a seemingly endless maze of twisting, turning hallways. Occasionally there would be a chair or a slightly disturbing framed picture of a skull or something next to an office, but the majority of the building was plain and white. Nygus explained that this was to create a soothing, focused environment and that the entire building was designed this way.

At last the two pulled to a halt in front of an office that, instead of a door, had a mirror. As if that wasn't strange enough, the office's occupant told Asura to just call him Death. That's what all of his friends called him, and anyone who visited his institute was a friend to be cared for. That was his motto.

Flashing Asura the occasional peace sign, Death answered every question in a roundabout fashion that Asura had begun to suspect was his style. Generally the black-clad man would half-answer a question, then change the subject. Asura wasn't sure if he was avoiding answering or was simply eccentric, but it quickly got on his nerves.

“So I'm told that the residents of this town call your institute 'Death City.' Is that because of your name?”

“Oh, I've never heard that before!” Death exclaimed. “That's interesting indeed. I assume it is, but there could be any number of other reasons. The people in this town are so superstitious. I swear that's what drives them all mad. But that's alright as long as it gives me business!”

“Sir, as you wishing mental instability upon your patients?”

“No, no, Mister Inspector, I would never! I was simply saying that-”

After this Death continued his explanation with a stream of chatter that was probably meant to distract Asura. At a certain point the inspector lost patience and cut him off.

“I asked around the town a bit, uh...Death, and I was told that the people nearby are often disturbed in the night by screaming coming from this area.”

Death sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth and spoke without exhaling: “Yeah, we...uh, we have some screamers.”

“And maniacal laughter?”

“Yes, those too. But – but that's to be expected in an institution of this particular variety.”

“And I'm sure you're aware that this is why I'm here to check on you? To inspect the living conditions of your patients and see if there's any way that the neighbors can be given a break from the screaming and the, uh, laughing?”

“Oh, indeed?” Death asked, cocking his head.

“Indeed,” Asura replied through gritted teeth.

“Well, then I suppose you'd like a tour?”

“If that's what you would like to call it, then yes. I would. Of all of the patient's quarters, please. And also the work area.”

“Oh, of course. One moment.” Asura sighed, trying to keep himself composed as Death turned around and dialed a number on his old-fashioned phone. He was sure that this man would be a great annoyance to work with every day – Asura had spent all of ten minutes in his office and was already at the end of his rope.

“Oh hello, hello there, my dear,” Death spoke into the mouthpiece of the phone. “I was wondering if you could come to my office? I have a man here to inspect the institute...yes...yes, as soon as you can, please. Yes, the whole place. He wants the grand tour. Yes. Even them. Yes. Thank you, dear. See you soon!” The man hung up and turned around. “She'll be here momentarily.”

“Who?” Asura asked nervously. If the entire staff was like what he had experienced so far, then this was going to be a long day.

“Our darling little volunteer. The sweetest thing, really. She loves the patients to bits, especially the ones in the back (at this Asura wondered what was so special about the patients in the back). She even brings them food, and she'll sit and talk with them for hours. She's quite extraordinary.” Death stopped blabbering as a knock sounded at the door. “Come in, come in!” he called.

The door opened slowly and a tall college-age girl entered. She was Asian, with long hair tied in a ponytail that hung to the backs of her knees. Asura wondered briefly how she did anything with hair that long to get in the way – it looked as if it should have tripped her up, but she moved quite regally. She bowed to Death and nodded politely to Asura.

“Mister Inspector, this is our volunteer, Tsubaki Nakatsukasa. Tsubaki, this is our inspector, mister...”

“Asura,” supplied Asura.

“Asura,” Death stated.

“Hello, sir,” Tsubaki greeted politely. The traces of a Japanese accent still hung in her voice, and Asura found it incredibly endearing. “I look forward to being your guide for the day. I have a lot of wonderful people to introduce you to.”

“Hello, Tsubaki,” Asura replied. “I look forward to being introduced.”

“Oh, wonderful, wonderful, you're bonding!” Death clasped his hands together and looked adoringly at the two. Aura wondered if it was a requirement to be mental yourself when you ran or were employed in a mental hospital. “You two are already getting along so well! Now be on your way – there's a lot to see before we close to visitors.”

“You take visitors?” Asura asked skeptically as he scribbled down a quick note in shorthand. “I thought you kept dangerous, undiagnosed patients here.”

“Only inspectors like you,” Death amended quickly. “Hardly anyone ever comes in, and even fewer leave.”

*** 

As Asura quickly discovered, the institution was not in fact a collection of buildings, but one large building that looped around itself in a way that mimicked several separate wards. In spite of this and the fact that everything looked exactly the same to Asura no matter where they turned, Tsubaki seemed to know her way around the place perfectly. In fact, not only did she know the building well; she greeted every worker that they passed by name. So far, Asura had only been introduced to doctors – apparently the patients were situated even deeper within the labyrinthine building.

Asura's first encounter with a patient came about when he and Tsubaki stopped by an examination room. Nygus, the woman who had welcomed Asura into the building, was there, along with a middle-aged man who was sitting on an exam table in simple white nightclothes. He was examining the nurse very thoroughly and inappropriately while she had her back turned to rummage through a cabinet, but stopped immediately and met her gaze seriously when she turned back around.

“Alright, then,” Nygus said as she approached the man and handed him first a pill and then a Dixie cup full of water. “Here's a pill for you to take, and then you can go back to your room and -” she broke off as Tsubaki rapped gently on the door frame. “Oh, hi there, Tsubaki! And our inspector, too,” she added as the two entered the room. “This is -”

Again, Nygus was interrupted as her patient virtually launched himself across the room and onto Asura. When his face was an inch from the startled inspector's, he gave him a little shake by the collar of his pinstriped suit. “Have you seen my daughter?” he asked. His voice held a note of complete distress and urgency. “Have you seen her? Have you seen my baby? I know she's here. I know they have her. I'll find you, sweetie! Daddy promises!” Blown away by the sudden assault, all Asura could do was step back, stammering. This was clearly not the answer that the man had been hoping for at all, because he instantly became an emotional wreck; he slumped to the ground with his hands still firmly rooted in Asura's shirt, sobbing. “Makaaaaaaaa! I'll save you. I'll find her and save her somehow! I'll take her away from this terrible place!”

“Spirit!”

Nygus recovered from the shock of the man's breakdown faster than either Tsubaki or Asura could, and strode over to retrieve her patient. She dragged him off of Asura and glared at him until he seated himself back at the table.

“I apologize,” she said. “This is Spirit. He's a little...invasive.”

“Uh...yes,” Asura agreed as he backed out of the room, his nervousness about the rest of the patients he would be meeting becoming almost too much to bear. After bowing to Nygus and apologizing, Tsubaki scurried after him.

“I'm sorry about that,” she said. “I didn't know he'd be there. He's really a very sweet guy, just...you know...”

“Nuts?”

Tsubaki instantly turned to give Asura a disapproving look. “Please don't.”

“Don't what?”

“Say things like that. Everyone in here really struggles. Some have committed horrible crimes in spite of sweet and gentle dispositions. The last thing they need is to be called nuts, especially in jest.” She looked straight ahead, her expression cloudy. Asura was caught off guard by her sudden change of pace; she seemed like the kind of person to be endlessly patient. He supposed that he'd just really struck a nerve.

“I'm sorry,” he apologized.

“It's fine. I'm sorry. I just get sensitive about this stuff, you know?”

“Sure.”

***

By the time they were halfway through the building Asura was exhausted. He had only been in the building for a few hours and he felt like he'd seen every psychological condition on the planet. But no, Tsubaki had warned him gravely, the worst was yet to come. Asura wondered how it could possibly get any worse than this. So far he'd seen people so disturbed that they repeated the same phrase over and over endlessly, without noticing anything that was going on around them. He'd seen people so riled up that they had tried to fight him tooth and nail for no apparent reason. There was a woman who claimed to be married to a toilet. One man thought he was a magical werewolf. But there were apparently things that he had yet to see.

They hadn't been to the rumored “back” of the building yet.

“So, Tsubaki, would you mind if I asked a couple of questions?” Asura asked as they took a break for lunch in the cafeteria.

“Sure. Fire away! I was actually wondering when you'd ask.”

“How did you end up working here?”

“Oh...” Tsubaki's eagerness deflated, replaced by a hesitant tone. “Is this for your inspection, or personal interest?”

“Both,” Asura admitted.

“Well...okay. I had a brother here.”

“Had?”

“He ran away nine months ago – he was here for a few months. They deemed him a danger to society and himself and locked him up in back. I knew he was just misunderstood like everyone else here, so I...I came here to look after him and see if I could get through to him.”

“Could you?” Asura inquired.

“Masamune had always been very distant...he was a weak child and not as privileged as I was. I always tried my best to make him happy, but that just upset him. By the time I got here he wouldn't hear me out. I had to stay an arm's length from his room because he would...he would try to kill me. He was delusional. He thought that if he killed me, he could have my life, my place in an Ivy League school, my confidence. I kept trying to talk to him until the end, when he...left. They said he just...ran off.”

“He just ran away? Just like that?”

“I guess.”

“This is a high security facility,” Asura reminded her. “There's no way that he could just walk off. Even if he was on a lunch break or something.”

“The patients in the back don't leave their rooms,” Tsubaki said softly.

“Then how'd he get out?”

“They said he climbed out the window.”

“The iron barred window?”

“Look!” Tsubaki cried, rounding on Asura for the second time. “I don't know what happened! They don't give you any details in this place, ever! I have friends here! I had family here! I don't need you questioning them. I just want...I just want them to be normal. To be happy. No one should be locked up in here forever...I just...”

As quickly as her willingness had turned into anger, Tsubaki's anger turned to tears.

“I'm sorry,” she cried. “I don't know what's wrong with me. I'm normally a really stable, patient person...it's just...being in here, you know? It does stuff to you, seeing people like this. I'm so sorry....I-I shouldn't yell at you. It's not my place.”

Caught off guard, Asura patted Tsubaki's back nervously. “It's...it's alright. I understand. I have experience with this. I'm not the same man I used to be.”

Tsubaki sniffed and looked up, attempting to smile and look reassured. “Thanks. We should...keep going. It's not much further.” She stood up and pushed her chair in. “There's some protocol I have to run through first, just the rules, you know. So you don't get hurt.”

“Hurt?” Asura asked nervously. He knew he was being paranoid (wasn't he always?) but the thought of being put in danger by people who were being treated properly for their conditions wasn't very reassuring. Besides, hadn't Nygus already given him this spiel?

“Yeah. Here, I can read it.” Tsubaki pulled out a manual that read “Nevada Mental Institution: Rules, Regulations, and Safety Precautions” and flipped it open to a dog-eared page. “'The 400 hallway is where the most mentally unstable patients are held for intensive treatment and diagnosis.'” Asura didn't like the use of the word “held.” It sounded too much like “restrained” or “contained.” “'We use the most security that we possibly can here, but there is still a risk of any visitors sustaining bodily harm, so we ask that you keep an arm's length from all windows and doors in the area.' You probably already got told this, but it especially applies here,” Tsubaki added. “'You are welcome to speak with the patients, but do not give them anything or take anything that they offer you, for both your own safety and the safety of the patients.' Basically, be super cautious, don't do anything dumb. I'll help you,” she added, sensing Asura's worry.

“Okay.”

“Ready? It's right this way.”

“Right this way” turned out to be down a hallway, down another hallway, through a room where several nurses inspected Asura and Tsubaki to see if they had any sharp or explosive items on their persons, and down three more hallways of empty rooms or offices. Then they reached a heavy door at which Tsubaki scanned a card. The doors slid open and Asura's senses were barraged by what lay beyond them.

Immediately he noticed the noise. There were various screams, moans and bouts of laughter echoing around the long hallway, accompanied by the ominous banging and thumping of a piano being played somewhere down the line. The still raging thunderstorm caused flashes of light in the room, and the sound of rain gave the impression that someone, somewhere, had their window open. There was also the constant grating sound of someone running something along a chalkboard or stone wall.

Then there were the sights. Contradictory to the awful sounds and smells within it, the hallway itself looked similar to every other one in the building. Asura peered inside an empty room to check, and indeed, it was the same. There was a bed, a desk, and a bathroom, and that was all. The only thing that was different about the hall's appearance at all, in fact, was the iron bars not only on the windows to the outside, but those to the hall (there was still a glass window, but it was covered by bar, and Asura preferred not to dwell on the reason for that). Nearly every patient had their hall window open, and some were yelling across the hall to each other over some nonsense about a school and the fear of spiders that nearly everyone in the 400 hallway seemed to be in on.

“Are you okay?” Tsubaki asked Asura nervously.

“Uh...yeah. I'm just a little...shell shocked. It kind of hits you all at once.”

“Yeah,” the volunteer replied. “You get used to it. I spend a lot of time back here – I know a lot of these people because of Masamune, and once he left, I couldn't just stop seeing and helping them. I'm sure they'd love to meet you. Would you...like an introduction?” Tsubaki still sounded hesitant, as if unsure of how well her suggestion would go over.

It was for this reason, and for the sake of his own curiosity, that Asura swallowed his comment about only being there for a facilities inspection. After all, he wasn't. He was also there to see if there was any possible way to make the area quieter for nearby homeowners, which would constitute the removal and relocation of the louder patients. This was probably the best way to find out who exactly needed removal.

“I would love one,” he replied, trying unsuccessfully to keep the note of nervousness out of his voice.

“You don't have to if you don't-”

“No,” Asura interrupted, sounding more sincere this time. “I want one. Really I do.”

“Alright. Just...be warned. There are some weird people in here. I've never had the same inspector come back here after being introduced once.”

And no one in their right mind would come back, Asura added silently.

“So...I guess, follow me,” Tsubaki said, in more of an inquiring tone than a commanding one. “Oh, and one more thing,” she added as she walked toward the first occupied room. “These people's names are classified. They all have aliases attached to them.”

“Why?”

“I don't know. I'm just not allowed to give you their legal names. Nor do I...uh, know them. So I'll use their preferred aliases.”

“Alright.”

As the two approached the first inhabited room, room 424, a quiet muttering could be picked out from among the raucous cries of all the other patients.

“Thirty-nine...no...that can't be right. Last time it was thirty-four, I'm sure of it. Or was it thirty-six? I don't know. Forty? Forty-eight? That would be a good number. But thirty-nine? I don't know!” Suddenly the volume of the voice increased dramatically. “I don't know! What is it? I can't even figure something this simple out! I'm trash! Garbage! I've been in this nuthouse seven years, that's the problem. Seven! Can you believe it? No, I can't! Seven! That's a completely asymmetrical number! I need another plastic fork...” The distraught rambling of the patient continued until Tsubaki rapped gently at the door. A pair of unusual golden eyes rose up over the bottom sill of the barred window. “What it it? I'm busy counting cracks in the ceiling. And then cutting new ones on one side to match those on the other side. I've been working on this for months and it's nearly finished, so let's make this quick.” Asura supposed that when you were locked up someplace like this, cutting cracks in the ceiling was a perfectly acceptable pastime.

“Kid, I have another inspector here. I'm introducing him to everyone. Asura, this is Death the Kid.”

“Is his alias based on his father's?”

“Yeah...how did you know?”

“The eyes. They look just like his dad's.”

Death the Kid interrupted then by clearing his throat loudly. “Asura. Don't let Tsubaki fool you. I am named for another reason. Did you know that, like my father, I am a Shinigami?”

“A what now?”

“Are you an idiot? A Shinigami. A god of death. A Grim Reaper. I preserve balance and order in this world. That means that I am, by law of nature, allowed to...oh. Oh God.” Death the Kid's eyes widened as if noticing Asura for the first time.

“What?” Asura asked nervously, already overwhelmed.

“Your hair. It's all wrong. No no no no no. This will never do.” The boy shot up into a standing position (he was wearing the trademark white pajamas of the institution) and pressed himself against the bars of his window. “It's completely asymmetrical. Just look! Those white patches and...and gray hairs...no. This will not do.” Death the Kid began to raise his voice again.

“Kid,” Tsubaki warned, “Don't freak out.”

“Freak out? I'm not freaking out. I'll simply remove his hair. That will solve the problem. That will return order to the world. Right? Right. See?” he began to ease his arm out of his room between the bars of the window, a frightening expression taking over his face. “I'll just yank it out now. It will be all right.”

“Kid,” Tsubaki said sternly. “Stop it now.”

When Death the Kid didn't stop, Asura began to back away anxiously. The crazed patient panicked and shot his arm out through the window as far as he could, straining against the bars as if he might be able to squeeze out further if he tried hard enough. “Just...come...here!” He screamed through gritted teeth. “I'm doing you...a favor!” his fingers grasped at thin air as he struggled to right this wrong in his world.

“Come on,” Tsubaki whispered. “There's no calming him down now. The damage has been done. It'll take him weeks to get over this one.” grabbing Asura gently by the sleeve, she began walking briskly across the hall to the next room. Asura took down some notes on his clipboard quickly, already fearing what the rest of this hallway had in store for him.

“Should we just leave him like that?”

“Patty'll calm him down a little.”

“Patty?”

“His neighbor. First I'll introduce you to Black*Star. He doesn't really talk to anyone on a normal level, so I visit him a lot more than the others.”

“Like what, he's mute?”

Tsubaki giggled at this. “Far from it. He has delusions of grandeur. And I mean, that would be fine and all, but he's convinced not only that he's a god, but that he's an assassin.”

“Both at the same time?”

“Yeah.”

“Does he even know that he's in this place?”

“Half the time. That's the case with most of these patients. They understand that they're here and most of them know why, but they've also created a false reality with one another. I guess it used to be a coping mechanism, but in most of them it's evolved into reality. They believe it.”

“What do they believe?” Asura asked, pausing before they reached the next room. He wanted to know a little more about what he'd gotten himself into.

“They think this is a school. Some of them have also decided that they have the ability to transform into weapons...I don't know all of the details, because when Black*Star tells me about it he's usually too fast and loud to understand. But yeah. Basically, it's weird.” she started walking again to show Asura that this was all that she wanted to say about the matter.

Asura peered through the window to Black*Star's room, not sure what he would find, or if it would be anything like the last introduction. What he did see was a young man, feet up on his bed, doing pushups.

“Three-thousand five-hundred twenty-six,” Black*Star muttered. Asura had no idea whether or not he had actually done that many pushups, or was fabricating that as well. “Three-thousand five-hundred twenty-seven, three-thousand five-hundred twenty-eight, three-thou-”

“Black*Star?” Tsubaki interrupted, knocking at the door. The boy immediately jumped up and hurried to the window, where he had set up a chair. It appeared that he sat here often, perhaps talking to Tsubaki. She seemed like not only a dedicated volunteer but an amazing friend.

“Hi there, Tsubaki!” Black*Star grinned. “I was just doing more push-ups. I'm getting in shape for when we fight the Kishin – not even a big star like me can rush into battle unprepared!”

“That's great, Black*Star,” Tsubaki praised, sounding genuinely impressed. “Hey, I brought a visitor today – this is Asura. I'm introducing him to everyone around here. He's inspecting the institution.”

“Don't trust him!” Death the Kid shouted from across the hall. “He's completely asymmetrical! He's a danger to society! Don't even talk to him! He'll get in your head! Mess you up!”

“Give it a rest, Kid!” Black*Star replied. “You're not even symmetrical without Liz here! Don't judge other people unless you’re me!” Turning back to Asura and Tsubaki, Black*Star extended a hand through the bars of his window. “Nice to meet 'ya, Asura. I'm Black*Star, the biggest guy in this whole place. I'm going to surpass God someday, so I'm training to defeat the Kishin. Only problem is, I don't really know who the Kishin is. Or what it is. But anyway, hi.”

Asura hesitantly took Black*Star's hand. It was warm and sweaty. Slightly disgusted, Asura blinked and forced a smile. “Is this the introduction you give everyone?”

“Yep!” he grinned, shaking the inspector's hand vigorously. “I like to assert myself. The world is my stage, of course.”

“Of...course.”

Black*Star suddenly tilted his head as if confused. “You're kinda weird, aren't you? Are you crazy?” after a moment of intense staring, he formed an idea. “Hey, wait...are you the Kishin?”

Tsubaki suddenly appeared to be very nervous and pushed Asura away from the window a little bit. “Don't be silly, Black*Star. What made you jump to a crazy conclusion like that? Asura is a wonderful person, and he is definitely not a threat to you. Besides, why would I bring the Kishin into the school?” she laughed nervously.

“And I don't even know what a Kishin is,” Asura added.

“Ah! He denies it!” the girl in the room next to Black*Star's slammed her book shut and stood up, overbalancing in her haste before blinking and righting herself. Asura wondered how long she had been eavesdropping. “Black*Star, that's proof that he's the Kishin! Lord Death wants me to defeat him!”

“Nuh-uh,” Black*Star protested. “Maka, if anyone's going to defeat the Kishin, it's me. I'm the one destined to surpass God! Of course I'll be the one to do it!”

The girl named Maka wobbled over to her own window and looked at Asura suspiciously. “I think there is something wrong with him. He's too...nice. And look how he's all fidgety!” She giggled at her own statement. “Fidgety! Yeah! He's all nervous because he doesn't want us to figure him out!”

“Uh...what's up with her?” Asura asked. “She's wobbly and giggly. Everyone else in here seems depressed and she looks like she's having a grand old time.”

“That's Maka,” Tsubaki whispered in his ear. “She's very aggressive and unstable, and she  
can hurt anyone with anything. She's killed people with books.”

“Books?”

“Book to the head.” Tsubaki made a chopping motion into her hand. “Also brooms. She thinks they're scythes.” Asura took this down in his notes for no reason other than to look professional. Maka unsettled him more than anything else had that day.

“Hey...mister!” Maka drawled. When she spoke it reminded Asura of a drunkard; her voice had a lazy drawl to it that conflicted with her jumpy motions. Her facial expression was fluid and went from angry to crazed to excited more quickly than Asura could process it. “If you are the Kishin, why are you here? There should be...a barrier up, or something.” Her face contorted as she struggled with the word “barrier.”

“I'm not the Kishin,” Asura replied. “I'm an inspector, and I'm here to look at the facilities. That's it.”

“I don't believe you,” Black*Star growled.

“Would you believe me?” Tsubaki asked him. “Because I'm telling you guys the truth when I say that he's perfectly normal. He's a nice person who's here to check out the building.”

“Sounds awfully suspicious,” Maka pouted. “I'd like to see him bleed! Blood is so pretty.” She said this with such enthusiasm and appreciation that Asura feared a few iron bars wouldn't be enough to keep her off of him.

“Okay, guys, I'm going to take Asura to meet Patty now. Thank you for saying hello!” Tsubaki gave a little jerk of her head to indicate that Asura should cross the hall.

“Pleasure to meet you,” Asura said over his shoulder, relieved to be walking away. To Tsubaki he asked, “is the next patient less...threatening?”

“Yeah, Patty's next. She's a sweet girl unless you upset her, so don't upset her and it will be alright. I'm sorry they're all so weird right now...I mean, this is worse than usual. You seem to really set them off for some reason. Usually they're only like this when a new patient comes in.”

“That's odd,” Asura said, hoping against hope that his theory about why they were acting up wasn't correct. Before he had more time to speculate, they had reached the next room.

Over the course of about an hour, Asura was introduced to the patients in the 400 hallway one by one. Patty was a cheerful girl of about ten, who, lonely without daily visits from her sister Liz, had befriended Death the Kid. She enjoyed annoying her obsessive compulsive friend by moving things around in her room, and creating life-size origami giraffes. Her introduction to Asura had mainly consisted of “Hi, I'm Patty and I'm a psycho,” followed by her life story. She had been raised with her sister on the streets of Brooklyn and stolen for a living. She had killed a man once. Or twice. A few times.

After the encounters with Death the Kid, Maka, and Black*Star, who were actually some of the less dangerous residents, Tsubaki said, introductions were shorter and more to the point. Some patients they passed by altogether aside from a quick greeting and the scrawling of a few notes – for example, the teenage boy with the alias Soul Eater. The origins of his nickname were fairly obvious. When Asura walked by his room, he had pressed himself against his window and groped the air with his hand, trying to grab the inspector.

“I can smell your soul,” he growled, drooling. “Let me taste it – just a bite! Please!” Desperation had entered his tone as Asura walked by. “Please! Please let me – It's been so long, and yours smells so different...so...” he had trailed off as Asura left, and resumed playing the piano (he had been the source of the dark song Asura had noticed upon entering the hall).

Other patients actually held conversations with Asura, seeming interested in him. The weirdest thing was the empty rooms that appeared scattered among the occupied ones, still appearing as if they'd been lived in - recently. There was a clear absence of patients, however, and Tsubaki said that those patients had been discharged. Asura couldn't help but wonder why one of the most dangerous patients in the entire institution would be discharged just like that, let alone several of them. He brushed the thought off. His mission was to get in, check it out, and leave, relocating patients if he had to.

Then there were a few patients who ignored Asura altogether.

At about the tenth room, Tsubaki paused before knocking gently at the door. This room was different from the others-the window was closed and the blinds drawn. This patient clearly liked his or her privacy.

“Yeah?” a timid voice rose from inside the room.

“Crona?” Tsubaki asked nervously.

“Yeah.”

“Okay.”

“Were you expecting someone else?” Asura whispered.

“Crona has Dissociative Identity Disorder,” Tsubaki whispered back. “Either of the other two personalities can be harmful. One of them actually makes them one of the most dangerous in the institution. This one's fine though.”

“Doesn't that disorder stem from trauma?”

“Yes.” 

“Is someone else out there?” the occupant of the room inquired, voice quivering.

“Yes. I brought an inspector to look at the hospital, and I was wondering if you wanted to be introduced?”

“I'd rather not...”

“That's okay. Where are you? Can I at least let him have a look at your room? It's part of the protocol.”

“Yeah, that's okay. I'm in the corner, so I'm safe.”

Tsubaki drew the curtains back slowly. The room looked like every other, except that it was quite a bit darker; the blinds were drawn on the window to the outside as well, leaving only a flickering fluorescent lamp for illumination. Papers, full of writing, were strewn around the room. Some of them were covered in small, neat handwriting, and some had various random words scribbled haphazardly on them. Some were just soaked in black ink.

After a moment, the heavy silence became too much for Crona. “Okay, could you go now? Sorry...I just don't really know how to deal with a random person standing where I can't see them.”

“Yeah, that's fine.” Tsubaki drew the shades closed. “We're almost done,” she said to Asura.

In fact, the last room left was at the end of the hall, separated from all of the others. Intense giggling was coming from it.

“Stay back here,” Tsubaki warned. Several feet from the window herself, Tsubaki called out, “Stein?”

“Stein?” Asura asked.

“Like Frankenstein. He's got that name because...well, you'll see.”

“Tsubaki?” the giggling stopped, replaced by a worn-out voice. A man appeared in the window. His hair was graying in spite of his young appearance, and the skin on his face and hands was scabbed and scarred and stitched together unprofessionally, as if the man had done it himself. There were screws and nuts and bolts implanted permanently into his skin, and they left ugly gray scars around them. His eyes were hollow, and a permanent toothy grin was plastered onto his face, his mouth pulled up in one corner, perhaps as the result of an old skin graft gone wrong. “Hello. Tell me, what day is it?”

“The twenty-fourth of April,” the volunteer replied.

“Marvelous. Twenty years, to the day. My calculations came out correct after all.”

“Twenty years since you came here, Professor?”

“Yes...and tell me, how is my old friend Spirit? He doesn't come around any more to see me...”

“He was admitted to the Institution today.”

“Ah. The stress of having an old friend and his own daughter locked up in the nuthouse, I suppose. And who is it that you've got with you?”

“This is Asura. He's an inspector. He's just checking things out.”

“Hm. He looks like a nervous fellow. Tell me, Asura, have you ever been dissected?” Stein asked nonchalantly.

“Uh..no. Sir, I can't say that I have.” Asura had started to wonder what was so dangerous about this guy, but the unusual interrogation set him back on track.

“Well. Has anyone ever told you how interesting your eyes are? They're lovely. I'd love to rip them apart. Come a little closer, please? Let me get a look at you.”

Tsubaki shook her head, but Asura took a few steps forward. What could this man do to him anyway? He was behind bars. As he got closer, Asura realized that the walls of Stein's room were etched and engraved with numbers, equations, years and years of calculation and speculation.

In a flash, Stein thrust his arm out and took hold of Asura's chin, pulling him closer until he was right up against the bars of the window. Stein's hand was clammy and rough with callouses, and he was not gentle in turning Asura's face side to side, examining him from every angle. His eyes, Asura noticed, were gray, and unlike any other eyes he had ever seen before. It was strange that this was what he noticed in a moment when he should have been panicking.

“Amazing,” Stein muttered. “Utterly breathtaking. I wonder what a blunt spoon would do...or a melon baller, but that's in my old lab. Damn. Your eyes are beautiful. I want them, Asura.”

Tsubaki made a panicked sound and attempted to pull the two apart. Neither man paid her any attention – they were entranced, each trying to figure the other out.

“Your brain would be nice to dissect, too. See what makes you tick. You pretend to be perfectly fine, but I know what you're covering up. You should be in here with the rest of us.” Stein's voice remained calm and monotone throughout his entire speech. He was, in fact, so quiet that he could barely be heard over the ruckus in the hall. “Oh, how I would love to see what's inside everyone in this room...they're so interesting. The ones next to me in particular. That Soul Eater. He would be fun to take apart.” Stein released Asura's face, causing Tsubaki to breathe a sigh of relief. Asura, who had remained silent throughout the whole ordeal, stepped back. He was more terrified of the man's insight than he was anything else. He had tried so hard, and done such a good job in hiding his condition, even when he knew how close he was to being thrown into the institution right along with people like Maka and Death the Kid.

“Are you okay?” Tsubaki asked, looking Asura up and down for injury. “Don't do that! You nearly gave me a heart attack!”

“I'm fine,” Asura assured her. He looked at his watch. “It's getting late, though. We should get going.”

“I agree.” The two turned to leave.

“Goodbye, Asura! Come back soon! I'd like to dissect you someday!” Stein called. “My treat!”

“Come back here! Your soul is mine!” Screeched Soul Eater.

“Please don't ever come back!” Crona moaned.

“Die, Kishin!” Cried Black*Star, moments before a book flew through the air into the hallway, narrowly missing Asura's head.

“He won't be back,” Kid announced. “They never come back.”

“They liked you,” Tsubaki said in a matter-of-fact tone.

***

“So, this is where I leave you,” Tsubaki smiled sadly at the door to Death's office.

“Thanks for the tour,” Asura said.

“The pleasure was all mine. And I apologize for anything uncomfortable that happened...”

“Part of the job,” Asura smiled, shaking the girl's hand and watching as she walked gracefully away. How anyone could remain in such good spirits working in a place like this was beyond him. Shrugging, he rapped on the mirror that stood in for Death's office door.

“Door’s open!” the proprietor trilled from behind the mirror. Asura stepped cautiously into the office. Seeing who it was, Death stood and scurried over.

“So, how did you like it? How did it go?”

“Like it? It was certainly interesting,” Asura replied carefully. “Your facilities are, for the most part, in top condition. I do have to talk to you about a few of your patients, however.”

“Oh?” The man cocked his head, which seemed to be a habit of his, and twiddled his thumbs anxiously. “And what do you have to say?”

“I've been introduced to the patients in the back, and their living conditions are...well...less than exemplary.” 

The grin disappeared from Death's face. “How so?”

“I was told by your volunteer that patients have...escaped or disappeared before, and that is not something that can be allowed in a high security prison like this. The patient's quarters were also in a horrible condition. I will have to report back to my boss...”

Asura trailed off. The atmosphere had changed. It was menacing now, and so was Death's expression. It wasn't threatening, but more like the start of something that could become dangerous quickly - a thunderstorm. He began rushing his words to back out of the situation as quickly as he could.

“I'll have to report back to him, but we may have to remove some of the patients from the back. So if you'll excuse me, I'll be going now.”

“No, I'm afraid you won't. Sorry.” what had happened to the cheerful man of moments ago? Death's face was somber now, and a bit crazed. Asura began backing toward the door. “I wouldn't,” Death warned. “Any of the nurses will catch you. And bring you straight back to me. Or, even more likely, right to Justin.”

“Justin?”

Ignoring Asura's question, Death approached him. “You see, you can't leave.”

“W-why not?”

“Because we've been watching you. And you're a threat.”

“A threat?”

“To yourself, and the rest of society. Namely, our society. Here. You could destroy our organization, do you realize this? One call and we're done. Kaput. Out of business. They'll remove every patient, and you don't know it, but that could spell disaster. Only we can hold them. You don't understand the patients here. They're so much more dangerous than you realize. Like yourself. And so, we'll have to take care of you. Just like we do with every other threat.” With the last words, Death approached Asura and grabbed him by the arm. Panicking, Asura tried to pull away, but it was to no avail; the man had an iron grip.

“You lock me up here against my will, and – and my organization will be all over you! They'll shut you down for sure!”

“Who said anything about locking you up? I mean, I would, if I could. But I can't. Your condition has progressed for far too long. I called your “organization”. They currently have no worker by your name, and said that you were fired a year ago, for reasons that they neglected to share with me. This inspection you've been on about? You've fabricated it completely. How have you been allowed to run free this long? You're far too paranoid, and I will not hesitate to state that you could kill on sight. And you could still call your old business and shut us down anyway.”

“I – no! I'm sane, I swear! I always have and always will be a facilities inspector, and I – I will shut your institution down, sir! I will call in tomorrow and have every patient dragged off of the premises. This is unacceptable!”

“You don't get it, do you? You don't have a tomorrow. I'm taking you to our executioner now. You're too dangerous.”

“Executioner? Now – now wait a moment!”

And so, with much resistance and screaming, Asura was dragged down into a basement that he hadn't even known the building had. It reeked of rotting flesh. He struggled to break free, but he was held by Death himself and an unreasonably strong nurse and it was of no use. He was pulled across the wet floor to an old-fashioned guillotine, and started to hyperventilate.

 _I don't understand,_ he thought. _I don't understand. I don't understand and I'm afraid!_ His neck was positioned by the nurse, and still that mantra was all he could repeat in his mind. I don't understand, I don't understand, I don't understand...why do they have this place? Why is this here? Is Tsubaki in on this?

“Wait!” he cried out. “Does Tsubaki know about this? Did she set me up for this?”

“No,” Death said somberly. “She doesn't know a thing. In fact, no one does, until their turn comes.”

“But – but why? Why would you kill them? You're a mental institution, you're supposed to help people like them! You're supposed to fix them!” Asura's voice cracked in his desperation.

“And we do. Except, some can't be fixed. Some are just too great a threat, to themselves and to society. Sometimes you have to kill a problem at its root. You can put a lid on something that smells, but the smell is still there. You have to clean it up if you want the smell to go away. Threats have to be put down, like diseased dogs. That's it, think of them as dogs.”

A threat to society. The phrase rang in Asura's ears. That's what Death had called him, and what Tsubaki had called the patients in the 400 hallway.

_I don't understand, I don't understand, I don't understand..._

But he did. The pieces had fallen into place. In fact, he had begun piecing it together before he'd even been in the back, when Tsubaki had told him about her brother, Masamune, running away nine months ago, escaping a high security facility without being noticed. Lies, all lies.

And all of the people in the 400 hallway, there for intensive treatment. Lies.

Death the Kid. _Lies._

Black*Star. _Lies._

Maka. _Lies._

Patty. _Lies._

Soul Eater. _Lies, lies._

Crona. _Lies, lies, lies._

Stein, who would probably be the next to go. _Lies, lies, all lies._

They had all been lied to, and had all taken the bait. It all made sense. The empty rooms. The disappearing patients.

Tsubaki's plea: _“I just want them to be normal. To be happy. No one should be locked up in here forever...I just...”_

Threats have to be put down.

Think of them as dogs.

A threat to society.

All these lies.

“Tsubaki!” Asura screamed, his voice raking the sides of his already hoarse throat. “Tsubaki, please! They're lying! Your brother didn't run away! Your friends are never leaving this place! Don't trust anyone! Tsubaki, please hear me! Leave now! Don't -”

“Do it, Justin,” Death commanded.

The blade of the guillotine fell.

**Author's Note:**

> **Trigger Warning I guess? Mentions of mental illness, major character death, general weirdness? I'm really paranoid that I'm gonna offend someone. 
> 
> EEEEYYY, MACARENA
> 
> This is from a year ago on FFN.net and I just. I don’t even know. I don’t know why I edited and reposted this. I just. I wanted to. Very very badly.
> 
> THE ORIGINAL THEORY:  
> I actually sort of forget the actual origin of this, but I think I brought it up one day and a friend helped develop it. Then it became this little piece of glorious whatever the hell it is. The idea is basically that everyone in Soul Eater is delusional and are actually all in a mental institution, just believing that it is the DWMA and that they are out to fight the Kishin. Then I added a whole bunch of whatever and this happened.
> 
> THE CHARACTERS:  
> Some randomness I should include.
> 
> Asura: Because I needed a character to take the tour, honestly. But he's really what moved the story along and gave me some ideas for how to wrap it up. 
> 
> Tsubaki: She's a little OOC, but it's partly my take on a much older, AU Tsubaki who grew up under different circumstances but is still the same caring, gentle, patient person on the inside.
> 
> Maka: She doesn't have an actual mentioned mental illness, unlike most of the characters here, but I based her on Black Blood Maka.
> 
> Justin: He's the executioner. Ha ha.
> 
> MENTAL ILLNESSES:  
> Time for a psychology lesson. Triggers? I removed mentions of these from the original story but I kept them here. So don’t read this if you’ll be offended or triggered by it, please please. I’m not trying to make a statement about mental illness or ANYTHING. If anything, I identify. 
> 
> Attachment Disorders: This actually usually happens in children, but basically it is the lack of the ability to form attachments (bonds of trust and emotion between people). Children with attachment disorders lack relationship building skills and often feel no remorse. Some have tried to injure or kill family members or pets. Masamune has it because even though in this universe he’d be in his upper 20’s, he really had a hard time with family and understanding people in the two episodes and however many chapters he appeared in. 
> 
> OCD: A lot of people refer to OCD without actually knowing what it is. OCD, Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, is basically what Kid has in the anime/manga. People with OCD feel that something simple being out of place or not having been done is a serious problem and a mental imbalance can cause them to actually feel threatened, and it causes severe anxiety. Such as locking the door then checking seven times to see if it's actually locked because what if it isn't even though I know it is, or washing your hands multiple times, etc. I gave Kid OCD because obviously.
> 
> Schizophrenia: People with schizophrenia interpret reality abnormally. The voices in their heads may seem to be coming from outside their body. They may not make much sense when they talk. They may suffer illusions or think they are something they are not, such as “I'm the king of England!” This affects about 1% of the American population. Black*Star has schizophrenia because he really acts like this in general. Judging by the definition, I could also have given it to Crona.
> 
> Dissociative Personality Disorder: This is a really interesting one to me. Also known as Multiple Personality Disorder. It is characterized by more than one personality residing in one host body, and is extremely rare. It is often brought on by childhood trauma (see what I did there?). I gave this one to Crona because it pretty much sums them up.
> 
> PEOPLE WITHOUT SPECIFIC ILLNESSES were characterized how they generally are AT THEIR CRAZIEST in the manga/anime, and I tried not to mention too many mental illnesses for fear of offending people.
> 
> ALSO: I have OCD (diagnosed) and have never attempted to remove somebody's hair (thank GOD). Nor have I used a plastic utensil to carve the ceiling. So if it wasn't obvious enough, this is not meant to be a reflection on other people with mental illness. I'll stop yammering now. Lol I just keep adding more notes because I'm really afraid somebody's gonna be offended or triggered by the writing of a barely high school student (that sounded rude and shitty I apologize).
> 
> At least there's not really much cussing because I used to watch my fucking language like the god damn grammar police.


End file.
